


The Burden on My Shoulders

by tal_yadin



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: All the bad things happen to him, Athos can be a nice person when he needs to, Gen, I can't stand sadish endings, Poor Athos, Sadness, but happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tal_yadin/pseuds/tal_yadin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>milady finally found the perfect revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Burden on My Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAiMER: I don't own any of the charecters or anything that has to do with the show. Sadly.
> 
> hope you enjoy reading :) All kudos and comments appriciated <3

"Isn't it ironic?" There was a hint of cold laughter in her voice as she spoke softly at the wide eyed man. Athos simply stared in horror at the three men before him. Hands bound behind their backs, gagged and kneeling on the floor, sat Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan. Behind them _she_ stood, a pistol held steady in her hand. "Your only three friends in the entire world, helpless, at my mercy…"

" _Don't._ " A whisper escaped his lips before he realized, but was simply ignored as she continued. "And since we both know I am capable of no such thing, the only question is, which one of them will die first?" Her words sounded light and casual, as if there wasn't the weight of a life hanging upon each and every one of them.

Athos could do nothing. He couldn't take a step closer for the obvious threat of her finger on the pistol's trigger and couldn't bargain for he had nothing of any value to her. He knew it wouldn't help, but he had nothing else to try. "Please don't. I beg of you. Please." He heard the desperation in his own voice and looking into her eyes, he knew his pleas would do little to stop her.

"Come now, Athos, You'll have to try harder than that." She tilted her head and watched him for a moment from beneath her eyelashes, a small smile playing on her lips, before taking a few steps to surround the men kneeling before her and stopping mere feet from him. The hand that held the pistol was still aimed at his comrades' direction, so Athos scarcely dared to breathe too deeply in fear of goading her into action. 

"You used to be such a convincing man, once." Her tone bordered on mocking as she took a tiny step closer to where he was standing, frozen in place. Athos looked at his friends, his brothers, that were covered in bruises.

A vicious cut graced Aramis' face, stretching almost from temple to jaw on the left side. Porthos' right eye seemed swollen and a trail of dried blood ran down from his nose. D'Artagnan had a trail of blood coming down from his hairline and a small scratch was visible on the side of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt.  

Athos tore his eyes from his friends and met hers instead. His blood froze in his veins as he saw cold fury evident on her beautiful features. "Convince me." Her voice was hard and cold as the cover of ice on a frozen lake at winter, seemingly perfect and smooth, but once broken, the shards were so sharp one could not avoid being cut.

She watched him, face blank and eyes cold and he met her eyes unflinchingly. "You want revenge? Kill me and be done with it." His voice didn't waver. After all, he was no stranger to life threatening situations. And death never truly frightened him. Not like loss did.

"Oh, Athos." Her smile returned and her eyes shone with unconcealed glee. "I don't want you dead." Her smile grew cruel and wicked. "I want you to suffer." She breathed the words with malicious joy. "I want you to watch as I take everything away from you." Her tone softened and she lowered her voice to a nearly hypnotizing whisper. "And this time, you _will_ watch." She smiled sweetly at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "No cowering this time, Athos."     

To Athos it seemed as if her words were echoing in the room. _No cowering this time,_ _Athos_. He turned his eyes to his friends again, taking in their injuries. He met each of their eyes, as his hand sneaked behind his back to grip the small object from his belt. He then turned back to her with a small smile on his lips. "I was always a coward." And as the words left his lips he pulled the small dagger out of his belt and drove it into his own flesh.

Everyone froze. No one breathed. For what seemed to be an eternity, but was truly just a few seconds, everyone fell completely still.

Then the moment was over and Athos collapsed to his knees. Through the haze he heard someone cry wordlessly, but the pain that washed over him demanded his attention more firmly and his fingers tightened on the hilt of the dagger, still buried deep inside his body.

"NO!!!" Her cry was loud enough and close enough to catch his attention and he managed to lift his head as her hands grabbed the fabric of his shirt, shaking his now slightly numb limbs in her fit of rage. "How dare you?!" She snarled at him, baring her teeth. Yet even with her features contorted so, she was beautiful. _A demon of temptation_ , he thought to himself through the haze of pain.

He forced his head up just enough to meet her eye that were now leveled with his and allowed the same smile to pull at the corners of his lips. It was a smile of desperation and of relief, a smile of victory and of surrender. "Can't hurt me if I'm dead." He managed to speak through the waves of pain.

He gasped as she shook him again, a growl escaping her lips. He locked his eyes on hers and spoke with command in his voice. "And you can't hurt them…" Bracing himself, he slowly pulled the blade from his body, not wanting her to notice the movement. Ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his abdomen, he kept their eyes locked together. "If you are dead!" With that he flipped the blade's point towards her and drove it through her heart.

The only sound that left her lips was a gasp before her eyes emptied and her body slumped to the side, falling to the floor gracelessly. Since his hand still held the hilt of the dagger, it was pulled free of the falling body and Athos slid it in his friends' direction before the last of his powers left his body and he slumped to the floor.

********************

 The three watched in horror as the woman spoke to Athos, taunted him with the threat of taking their lives still steadily held in her hand. They watched at the horror in Athos' eyes as he saw their injuries. They watched as he begged her to take his life, instead of theirs. Watched as she laughed at his pleas and lightly told him she was choosing to doom him to suffer instead.

None of them dared to do as much as test their bonds. Not with that smile on her lips and a pistol in her hand, aimed at their heads.

None of it mattered anymore, though, once Athos drove the blade through his abdomen. A cry escaped from D'Artagnan's mouth, muffled by the cloth gagging him and Porthos was now struggling furiously against his bonds. Aramis caught sight of the blade sliding across the floor and shuffling a bit, he turned his back and managed to catch it with his bound hands. He swiftly cut the ropes binding his hands then did the same for Porthos and left him to unbind D'Artagnan' hands as he rushed to Athos' side. 

As soon as the bounds came off, D'Artagnan stumbled to his feet and hurried to help Aramis to turn Athos onto his back. Porthos heavy boots thumped on the floorboards as he ran outside to send someone to fetch a doctor. Aramis and D'Artagnan turned Athos onto his back, carefully moving his limp form.

As soon as he was repositioned, Aramis quickly unwrapped the cloth from around his hip and swiftly unbuttoned Athos' outfit. Beneath was revealed his once white shirt, quickly reddening from the blood that still poured from his wound.

 Without bothering with much inspection, Aramis bundled the cloth together and pressed it hard to the bleeding wound in Athos' midsection. Athos regained consciousness with a pained grunt, his head rising from the floor before falling back on it with a painfully loud thud.

D'Artagnan flinched at the sound and quickly reached to prop Athos' head on his thighs, holding his head carefully and trying to catch his eyes. "Athos? Athos, can you hear me? Stay awake, Athos. You must stay awake!"

Aramis was frantically searching around for anything to use as bandages, the piece of cloth in his hands was nearly completely soaked with Athos' blood already and it was but a few moments. He caught on of D'Artagnan's hands and pressed it above the cloth that covered the wound. "Keep pressure on it." He ordered, meeting his eyes before quickly standing and rummaging through the room in his search.

D'Artagnan obeyed. He held the bandage with a death grip, hard enough that his knuckles grew white, all the while calling Athos' name and ignoring his pained grunts and moans. Porthos barged back through the door and was by their side at the same time Aramis dropped a pile of clothes on the floor by Athos' feverish frame and started ripping them to stripes.

Aramis removed D'Artagnan's hand, still holding the blood soaked cloth, from the wound and started wrapping the stripes carefully around the wound. Soon, he handed Porthos another bundle of cloth and ordered him to put pressure on the wound again. He resumed to tearing stripes of clothes, but his movements were slower now, and his hands visibly shook.

A hand rose to grasp one of his hands, efficiently stopping its tremors and all three of them fell motionless. Athos' hand squeezed Aramis' trembling one and his eyes were clear, watching the three of them. For a few moments, no sound was heard in the room other than Athos' labored breathes. And the three watched their friend with fear in their eyes.

His voice broke the silence, hush and weak as it was, his words cut through the silence and they could do nothing but listen. "Five years ago, after the deed was done, I fled my home." His eyes watched them and yet he seemed to be far away. Remembering." I fled the grave of my brother, the house we grew up in and the tree upon which, I believed, my wife had been hanged." He said it with relief, like a long denied confession.

"But I couldn't escape the memories, or the blood that was on my hands." His voice fell lower, hoarse, and he seemed to be struggling with himself, searching for words. "And yet, no matter how bad it got, no matter how low I fell, I could never bring myself to take my own life." There was long learned shame in his voice, as if he was admitting a flaw he had learned to live with, but he didn't avoid their eyes.

"After all the mistakes I've made in my life, after all the wrongs I've caused, I couldn't bear the thought that my death would mean nothing." His voice carried an echo of grief, the sorrow of a man who could not escape his own life, for he didn't believe he deserved peace. "I joined the ranks in hope that one of those fights would allow me death at the service of a greater cause." They all watched and listened, as their friend, their brother, laid his past for them to see.

"Then I met you three." A smile broke like a dawn on his lips, warm and real, and he watched them with pride shining through the pain in his eyes. "And my life was no longer just a series of fights I had to live through until I was granted my peace." Gratitude rang clear in his voice, a prayer of thanks to the god who granted him the privilege of meeting those three, those three who cared so much.

"You became my friends, my brothers, my family." It was clear he was struggling to speak through shaky breathes. All three had tears running down their cheeks by then, but none of them dared to lift their eyes from Athos' in fear that when they looked next, there would be no sign of life in them. "I am happy…" The words were cut by a painful coughing fit and they watched, at loss, unable to help their friend.

He took a few shuddering breathes once the coughs died down and the smile returned to his now blood stained lips. "…that I could die protecting what I have left." With those words out in the open and a smile still on his lips, Athos' world was drowned by darkness.

*********************

Athos woke slowly, only to realize he was tired. Although, tired was a bit of an understatement, Exhausted down to his bones, more like. His limbs were heavy against the soft mattress and he suddenly realized he was not in his own bed. It took him a few tries to pry his eyelids open and he blinked at the soft light that poured from what seemed to be like a window at the side of the bed. Definitely not his lodging.

"We were starting to think you'll never wake up." With some effort, Athos turned his head to the side, towards where Aramis' voice came from. He was met with the sight of Aramis standing by one of the cupboards that stood against the wall, a wet piece of cloth in his hand that has been just washed apparently. Porthos and D'Artagnan were both occupying the small table in the center of the room. A bottle of wine stood on the table, half empty, and a few glasses.

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to." His mouth felt dry as he uttered the words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the sight of his friends, safe and sound, if a bit weary looking. Aramis and D'Artagnan seemed relieved to hear him answer. Not so seemed Porthos.

"A bloody smile!" The words fell from his mouth as a growl. "The man goes and stabs himself, gives us lot the frights and here he is with his bloody smile!" He grumbled and downed the rest of the wine in his glass, ignoring Aramis' and D'Artagnan's chuckles at his sulking.

"The woman, is she...?" He trailed off, leaving the end of the question unasked. The mood in the room sobered immediately and Aramis nodded. "Your aim with that blade was a great deal more accurate against her." He paused for a moment and watched Athos' muscles relax. "Although, you could blame it on the fact that you don't use a blade on yourself very often." Athos' lips curled with the smile he reserved for facing Aramis' mocking, all dry humor and halfhearted amusement. 

"I had to stay alive long enough to finish the job, but it also had to be fatal, or she would never have came close enough for me to strike." Aramis allowed the wet cloth to fall back into the bowl before coming to sit closer to the bed, on the empty chair to D'Artagnan's left. Athos met his eyes calmly, no longer smiling, but not his usual grim self either.

He seemed relaxed somehow, like a great burden was finally taken off of his shoulders. "So you didn't truly believe your death would satisfy her?" D'Artagnan asked, his eyes fixed on Athos' face. D'Artagnan knew the entire story and his eyes told Athos there was something more behind the question. An accusation, perhaps. Athos shook his head slowly to avoid aggravating his aching head.

"She would have killed you in her rage. Or simply to avoid having you go after her." He shifted a bit where he lay then stilled as pain shot through his abdomen, he relaxed again a moment later. "She was a brilliant strategist before she was anything else." His voice sounded a little out of breath and was still hoarse from sleep.

Aramis noticed and quickly fetched a glass of water. He put it to Athos' mouth and supported his head as he sipped, wincing a bit at the grunt of pain that escaped Athos mouth as his head was resettled on the bed. "You would know I suppose, she was your wife after all." Aramis said as he set the glass back on the table and returned to his sit, waiting for the reaction to his words.

None came. Athos simply turned his eyes on D'Artagnan, who sat straighter and returned the stare, almost glaring. "I should never have promised to keep it from them." D'Artagnan said defiantly, but Athos could see the guilt in his eyes and was suddenly reminded of how young D'Artagnan truly was. He was not much more than a boy and yet he had the courage and character of a great soldier.

Athos felt shame wash over him. For making the boy promise to keep his secret, for making him carry the guilt of the knowledge that, had he spoken sooner, the entire ordeal could have been avoided.

With some effort, he shifted to a more upright position, ignoring the pain the movements caused, he leaned his back against the headboard and patted the bed beside him. "Come here, D'Artagnan." Aramis and Porthos watched as the boy carefully sat himself on the edge of the bed, unwilling to jostle the injured man that occupied it. D'Artagnan met Athos' eyes without merit and didn't move as the injured man lifted his hand and rested it on his shoulder.

He froze completely though as Athos leaned forward and, shifting his hold to D'Artagnan's neck, kissed his forehead. Aramis and Porthos Smiled at the sight of D'Artagnan's eyes widening in shock at Athos' action. D'Artagnan hasn't been one of them for long, and so he'd never witnessed how in the rarest moments, Athos could become so caring, almost soft, when he knew it was needed from him.

Athos kept his lips on D'Artagnan's forehead for a long moment before pulling back and meeting his eyes again. "It was not your fault, D'Artagnan. You did honorably and I should have never asked it of you." He watched the guilt and tension fall away from D'Artagnan's eyes and pride blossoming in them instead.

He leaned back on the headboard again, letting his hand fall from D'Artagnan's neck, and turned his head to looks at Aramis and Porthos, who watched with matching smiles on their lips. "I apologize for putting you in danger." He looked at all three of them. "All of you."

Aramis and Porthos traded glances and came to stand close by the bed. "All is forgiven, my friend." Aramis laid his hand on Athos' shoulder, smiling at him brightly and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Aye." Porthos agreed with a smile of his own. "Just don't pull anymore stunts like that one, aye?" All four men chuckled. The three resumed their sitting places and Athos allowed himself some rest, still leaning against the headboard.

"You might have to make one more apology, though." Porthos suddenly spoke and Athos raised his eyebrow at the burly man. Aramis gave a laugh at his friend's words. "Treville was pretty much fuming." He explained with a large smile on his lips. D'Artagnan laughed heartily, joining the jest. "I don't think I've ever seen him that angry." The trio's smiles turned into laughter as Athos gave a long suffering groan.

Athos allowed himself a smile as their laughter continued. After all, so long they were all still breathing, he could count it as a good day.        

**Author's Note:**

> I finally managed to write some Athos!!! Hope you guys liked :)  
> And by the way, here's what Athos says without the gaps for descriptions, I just find it really emotional to read out loud:
> 
> Five years ago, after the deed was done, I fled my home. I fled the grave of my brother, the house we grew up in and the tree upon which, I believed, my wife had been hanged. But I couldn't escape the memories, or the blood that was on my hands. And yet, no matter how bad it got, no matter how low I fell, I could never bring myself to take my own life.  
> After all the mistakes I've made in my life, after all the wrongs I've caused, I couldn't bear the thought that my death would mean nothing. I joined the ranks in hope that one of those fights would allow me death at the service of a greater cause.  
> Then I met you three. And my life was no longer just a series of fights I had to live through until I was granted my peace. You became my friends, my brothers, my family.  
> I am happy that I could die protecting what I have left.
> 
> All comment appriciated :)


End file.
